Fired Up
by Queen of Cliffies
Summary: AU to Scorched. Paul Stevens never died and now he's off to teach the FBI a lesson for trying to stop his revenge on firemen. What'll he do to prove he's smarter than the FBI and their genius consultant? Recently revised for a stupid mistake!COMPLETE!
1. Proving It

Author:Queen of Cliffies aka Nicole

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. I don't own Charlie, Don or even the bad guy. I'm only borrowing them shortly and they'll be returned as soon as I'm done in minty fresh condition.

Summary:AU to Scorched. Paul Stevens never died and now he's off to teach the FBI a lesson for trying to stop his revenge on firemen. What'll he do to prove he's smarter than the FBI and their genius consultant?

Spoilers: Tiny bit for Uncertainty Principal and major spoilers for Scorched.

A/N: I posted this as a challenge on my forum but it took too long for anyone to try it, so I decided to do it for myself. I'd love suggestions from readers to help me along with this story. As for readers of "A Million" I'm sorry, but I have a muse for this AU story right now, but I am still attempting to track down the one that ran away for "A Million". Anyway I hope you enjoy this.

**Fired Up**

**Chapter One:** **_Proving It_**

"We know what happened to you eight years ago. We know that the Los Angeles Fire Department turned you down!" Megan's voice resounded through the Glendale Developement.

"They said I wasn't good enough," Paul Stevens replied, causing Megan and Don to swing around, with their guns pointed in front of them, trying to find the arsonist's exact location.

"I understand," Megan called to the arson investigator turned criminal, trying to gain his trust, "We know better, we know what you're capable of!"

The agents followed the sound of his voice until Stevens revealed himself, holding a glass jar at arms length.

"Paul," Don acknowledge quietly.

"White phosphorus," Paul told them, guesturing at the jar with his head.

"Alright," Don said in the same quiet voice as before, he did not want to antagonize the man.

"This hits the air, it explodes," he continued loudly.

"Okay," Don replied, keeping the same steady, quiet tone.

"Kinda fire that really makes an impressionn," he added as if Don had never said a word. His eyes had a look that was a mix of desperation and anger.

"Yeah, okay, lets just take it easy now," Don suggested level headedly in an attempt to calm the other man, "okay? Paul just listen to me."

"Back up!" Paul ordered, trying to keep a calm face, but failing miserably,

"Paul..."

"Back up!" He repeated more forcefully.

"I'm backing up," Don took a few small steps backward, still facing Paul, "Everyone back up."

"Slowly," Stevens added in a determined voice.

"We're backing up," Don assured him, "Just relax," they all noticed that Paul was getting even more agitated.

"Trust me, okay. I know what I'm talking about," Stevens said just as Don replied.

"Listen," there was a small pause as he let Paul finish his sentence, "Lets just talk," Don didn't want him to get away or start a fire with all of them inside, "Whatever you're thinking, don't do it!"

"I'm getting out of here," Paul's eyes were wide as they strained to see. He went to slide down the chute next to him, narrowly missing bumping his head on the top of it. If he had, it would've meant his death, because he would've dropped the jar.

"Don't do it!" Don repeated as Paul disappeared down the chute.

Paul clutched the jar in his hands and made is safely out at the bottom.

He had to grin when he saw that no agents had been placed near his car. He heard a shot ring out, the bullet whizzing right by his ear. He threw the driver's side door open, and as he climbed in he placed the white phosphorus carefully on the ground, where some careless agent might accidentally kick it. He had out thought them again and now he had to teach them a lesson.

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Don and Megan accompanied by their fellow agents ran down the stairs of the developement in pursuit. The agents in front of them picked up their pace as Paul reached his car. Don shot off a carefully aimed shot, trying to scare the man into surrender, it didn't work. Just as an agent reached where Paul's car had just been he noticed a glint by the agent's boot.

"James! Don't move!" He called out to the unaware agent, but a second later the sound of shattering glass and an explosion rocked the air, knocking Don. Megan and several other agents off their feet.

Regaining their breath Don and Megan got to their feet and ran to aid the other agents, "Call for an ambulance!" Don ordered an agent behind them. The flames licked at his feet as he pulled an unconscious agent from the area that was aflame.

After retreiving all of the surviving agents from the fire Megan turned to Don, "There's no way James survived that, or anyone who was near him."

Don looked at her with his eyes narrowed in rage, "We need to catch Stevens, those men were my friends, Megan. James and Mitch were my friends," he said of the two agents they'd been unable to save.

"I know, they were mine too," Megan replied in a tone that was a mixture of anger and sadness.

Sirens floated through the air, quietly at first, then steadily louder. The paramedics had finally arrived with some backup. A EMT fussed over a few minor burns, but Don brushed him off, "I'm fine, its the others that need help."

"Alright sir, but you have to promise to get those checked out," the EMT motioned to a burn on Don's right arm.

"Yes, now please help my agents," Don's voice got exasperated and was thankful to see Colby coming up to him.

"Don, what happened?" He asked immediately, pointing to Megan who had some more serious burns than Don.

"He got away, we need to pursue him," Don told him angrily, not angry at his subordinate, but at the man who'd killed his friends.

"I know Don, but first, all of you guys need medical assistance," Colby tried to dissuade his boss slightly, "We will get him."

Don nodded and didn't comment when one of the paramedics insisted on taking a look at his burns.

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"Don? Are you alright?" Charlie asked his brother upon seeing the gauze on his arm, reminding him of the incident with the Charm School Boys.

"Yeah, Buddy I'm fine," Don brushed off his brother's concern, "Just a couple small burns."

"He didn't get away? Did he?" Charlie's eyes widened, he hadn't heard the news yet.

"Unfortunately yeah, Steven's got away. And Megan is absolute on the fact he's not done with us yet. He went out of his way to prove he's smarter than those firemen. He probably wants to prove the same thing with us now," He explained to his younger brother.

"We found out what he was doing... that made him feel stupid," Charlie added and his brother nodded grimly, "Where's Megan?"

"The hospital, her burns were a little bit more serious and she had to stay there longer," the FBI agent informed him.

"Everyone's okay though, right?" He looked expectantly up at his brother, hoping for good news. But that wasn't the case.

"Two agents are dead, so no, everyone is not okay!" Don shouted angrily at the young professor, unable to hold in his rage any longer. The look on his little brother's face immediately made him feel guilty as hell. None of it was Charlie's fault, yet he just took all his anger out on the niave genuis, "Buddy...I'm sorry... I'm just mad at that (Censored) for killing two of my friends."

"I understand..." Charlie replied quietly, "Can I get a ride home?"

"Sure Buddy, just give me a minute," Don answered with a forced smile and tossed him the keys, "Meet me in the car."

"Alright," Charlie nodded, knowing his brother just needed a moment and headed out of the FBI office to the parking lot. He unlocked his brother's car and climbed into the passenger's seat. Sighing, he slumped in the seat, waiting patiently for his brother.

A movement in the rearveiw mirror caught his eye, a flash of colour from the backseat. Whipping his head around he came face to face with a Colt Revolver.

"Hi Charlie," Paul Stevens greeted him, the firestarter must have somehow jimmied the lock earlier without setting off the alarm.

"Hi Paul," he forced out quietly, his eyes focussed on the gun.

"Did you have fun?" He asked jabbing the gun closer to the consultant's face.

"Have fun doing what?" Charlie asked seriously, trying not to allow his fear to show in his eyes.

"Making me feel incompetent, figuring out what I did. Pretending to be smarter than me," Paul ranted, "Well I have news for you, You are not smarter than me. I don't care how high your IQ may be."

"I get it, you're more intelligent," Charlie agreed readily,in fear for his life. Paul had already killed at least three people and injured many more.

"No, you don't get it. I have to prove it," Stevens said angrily, pulling the hammer on the gun back.

"My brother is going to be here any minute, Paul," Charlie spoke as calmly as he could, "Would it be smart to shoot me in a FBI parking lot? They'd find you in an instant."

"You're to tell no one of my little visit, it's easy to plant a bomb in your house, your brother's apartment, maybe even your girlfriend's place," Paul warned him with a grin.

"She's not my-" but Paul cut him off.

"But you care about her, don't you? Don't think this is the last time you'll see me. I'm just getting started, I'm all fired up and ready to go," They were the last words the Arsonist said to him before opening the door and vanishing into the crowded parking lot.

Charlie sat stiffly in the passenger's seat of the car, until, a few long minutes later, Don opened the driver's side door, "Sorry I took so long..." He took in the look in his brother's eyes, "Are you alright Buddy?"

Charlie stared at his brother for a minute, gathering himself, before replying, " I'm fine."

Don started the vehicle, thinking his brother was still upset from his outburst, and drove towards the house Charlie and their father shared.

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A/N: Let me know if you liked this by reviewing!

With Tons of Love

Nicole


	2. Gasoline

Disclaimer:If I've said it once I've said it a million times, "I DON'T OWN NUMB3RS" Stop torturing me by making me repeat it over and over! Anyway...now that thats out...

A/N: I don't know how often my updates will be, but I'm aiming for once every two weeks. No promises though. A couple people mentioned that Don called Charlie, Buddy alot in the last chap, that was only because he knew Charlie might get upset at hearing the news, although I do see one part where it didn't quite fit. I'll change it soon. Thank you for the insight.

**Chapter Two: Gasoline**

The ride to Charlie's house ensued in an awkward silence and Don was starting to think maybe it was more than his earlier outburst that had Charlie upset. He wanted to try and coax him it out of him, but knowing his brother, he wasn't going to say anything until he was good and ready.

Don pulled up into the driveway, Charlie jumped out saying only, "Thanks," and headed straight towards the garage. The front door swung open easly and Charlie made for the door that connected the garage to the house.

"Dad?" He called out hopefully, but there was no answer. He wasn't going to have any help this time, he was going to have to get through to his little brother on his own. As he opened the door to the garage, he noticed chalk dust was already floating around it. Charlie was zoned out working on his Cognitive Emergence Theory, but at least it wasn't the P vs NP thing.

"Charlie?" He called out softly, not wanting to startle him, he knew his brother had probably not heard him come in. He expected to have to call out to his brother a number of times, but Charlie whipped around to face him, wide eyed.

The professor stared at his older brother for a couple moments before stating breathlessly, "Don, you scared me, I thought you were... someone else."

Don knew Charlie was definetely leaving something out, "Charlie, whats going on?"

"Nothing Don, I was just startled, thats all," he replied turning back to his chalk board.

"Charlie, you looked as if you thought I was going to shoot you. Are you sure there isn't something you aren't telling me?" The FBI agent pressed the younger man for information.

"I saw Paul," Charlie admitted, looking from his board to Don and then the floor.

"You what! Where?" Don asked in disbelief.

Charlie swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, "When I went to the car, he was waiting for me. He had a gun and he was going to shoot me, but I convinced him otherwise, for now."

"My god Charlie! How can you be so smart, but so damn stupid! Why the hell didn't you tell me before?" Don's voice echoed through the small room and Charlie looked at his brother's face for only a second.

"He threatened you, Dad and Amita, what else was I supposed to do?" He yelled back, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. In anger he threw down the piece of chalk in his hand and tried to run out the door. Don grabbed his arm tightly and swung the mathematician to face him.

"Did you not think I could protect you! God Charlie, what is wrong with you? Did you think it would all go away?" Don continued to yell angrily, all of his anger spewing out at his younger brother.

"Let go of me," Charlie twisted his arm out of his brother's slightly painful grip.

Don let go abruptly, "You can't just run out of here without any protection, Charlie. Or do you want to wander within his range?" He said loudly, trying to get through to his brother of the danger, by reminding him of the sniper incident.

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but Don put his hand up to silence him as he pulled out his cell phone. Charlie closed his mouth and listened to his brother's side of the conversation, "Agent Marshall? I need you down at my brother's house. Why? Stevens threatened him, yeah, ok. Twenty minutes is good, I can look after him til then."

"I don't need a babysitter Don," Charlie spoke up quietly, he didn't need someone to 'look after him'.

Don didn't reply and sat down in a wooden chair to wait for the agent he'd called. Charlie looked at Don, the hurt clear in his eyes, but his brother ignored it, so he turned back to the chalk board and began to scribble his equations.

When the other agent arrived, Don gave his brother one last look of angry disbelief before dissappearing out the door to find his father. Charlie turned just in time to see the look in his older brother's eyes and faced the chalkboard as his eyes watered slightly, "I'm sorry... I was so scared he'd hurt you," he whispered so quietly even Agent Marshall could not hear.

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The work consumed him for the next half hour at the least, when he heard small commotion from behind him. He whirled around to see a sight that sent shivers down his spine, like someone had just shoved an icecube down the back of his shirt. Paul Stevens was pulling a knife out of Agent Marshall's neck. The muscular agent's eyes were wide in horror, and had a sad look in them, he had failed his boss and would pay with his life for it.

The blood dripped down the agent's shirt and seeped into his tie as Paul pulled out the Colt and pointed it at the professor with a smile, "Nice to see you again, Charlie."

"I'm sure," he replied uneasily, his eyes still glued to the agent's dead body, he tore them away to notice the large duffel bag Paul was carrying with him.

Steven's grabbed the chair Don had been seated in less than an hour ago and postitioned it in the middle of the room, his eyes never leaving Charlie the whole time. He stood behind it and waved the gun towards it, "Sit," he ordered calmly, knowing the younger man had no choice but to listen.

Charlie debated in his mind, if he stood there, he'd most likely be killed...if he sat down, the same outcome would probably occur. At least if he obeyed Stevens, he could buy some time. Walking slowly to the center of the room, he sat stiffly in the chair. Paul's presence behind him raising the hair on the back of his neck, waiting for the inevitable. A horrible feeling awakened inside his stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt many times before, a truely intense sense of fear.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let in out with a small sigh of relief. The feeling of Paul behind him was gone, but he man was still in the room and Charlie didn't dare move from the chair. Turning his head slowly he saw Stevens remove the handcuffs, tie and belt from the dead agent's person. Paul saw Charlie looking at him and smiled cruelly as he carried the items with him to resume his position behind the young man.

It was worse for Charlie to know he was there, but be unable to see anything that he was doing. Charlie felt him grab one of his wrists and snap one end of the handcuffs around it. Within five seconds, Charlie's hands were cuffed behind his back and he felt the belt being looped around both his waist and the back of the chair; making it impossible for him to get up.

He could only watch as Stevens circled around him and used the blood stained tie to bind his feet tightly together, "What are you going to do?" He asked the arsonist quietly.

Stevens smiled as he knelt beside the duffel bag and started to gently pull out glass jars wrapped in bubble wrap, "Doesn't matter if this place blows or not, either way you're going to die. The fumes will do that to you." He hooked up a device to the door, connected to a piece of string so that if the door opened a small jar of white phosphorus would fall and cause an explosion; mixed with the other chemicals and flammable substances in the room, it would ultimately cause the whole garage to be incinerated. The string while pulled taut would prevent the jar from falling, so Stevens could escape without killing himself.

He opened some of the jars and placed them at intervals around the room and started searching for something among the many boxes, "Where's the gasoline?" He asked Charlie seriously.

"There isn't any," he answered a little too quickly.

"This is a garage, there is gasoline here I know it. Now where is it?" He asked with a tint of anger in his voice.

"What do you want it for?" Charlie asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Guess," Paul replied sacastically, just as he made his discovery, "Well what do you know? Gasoline." He opened the can and proceded to dump the entirety of its contents over Charlie's head. He pushed his face into Charlie's, "Did you know if your skin is in contact with gasoline for thirty minutes or more, it can cause severe burns. Thats gonna hurt my friend."

Charlie shook his head rigourously, although he did know that fact, but Paul wanted to prove his intelligence, so Charlie let him. As he shook his head a drop of the gasoline from his hair splashed into his eye, and he let out a cry of pain. Stevens only laughed at him and placed a small device about a foot away from him.

Charlie's eye watered and the tears carried the gasoline away from his eye, but when he opened it, it was still slighly blurry. He knew the effects wouldn't be permanent, but that didn't really matter at the moment. With his good eye, he saw the device Paul had place there, "What is that?" He questioned, but didn't really want to know the answer.

"That is a small fire bomb, if I press this button," he showed Charlie the detonator, "a fire about the size of a small camp fire will start. That plus your gasoline soaked self equals bad," Stevens taunted him before grabbing a piece of cloth from a partially open box and using duct tape to tape it half over-half in Charlie's mouth.

He pulled on the string and carefully opened the door and squeezed out through the small opening, before shutting it again and letting go. He took a pair of scissors and cut the string so it was barely noticable, he knew Don would be too intent on saving his brother to notice it. Smiling at the closed door he called out to the bound man inside, "I'll be watching!"

All he heard in return was a muffled shout that sounded something like, "Don!"

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A/N: I hope you enjoy that and constructive critisim is welcome. Flames will be disregarded and praise will be treasured! PLEASE REVIEW! Also if I made any spelling mistakes tell me.

P.S. That little fact about gasoline burning the skin is true as far as I know. I did a bit of research on it.

With Tons of Love

Nicole


	3. Feel The Burn

Disclaimer: If I owned Numb3rs, this wouldn't be considered fanfiction now would it? Although my birthday is coming up and it would be a perfect gift... Unfortunately I own nothing and probably never will, but my sister might! Not numb3rs of course, but she is writing script for her very own show and she's letting me in on it! GO SIS!

Summary:AU to Scorched. Paul Stevens never died and now he's off to teach the FBI a lesson for trying to stop his revenge on firemen. What'll he do to prove he's smarter than the FBI and their genius consultant.

Spoilers: Tiny bit for Uncertainty Principal and major spoilers for Scorched. Also a tiny itty bitty one for Sniper Zero in the previous chapter.

A/N: I know I said probably every two weeks, but I think this story is better planned than "A Million" also my plot bunny for this one deicded he liked me, at least for now and hasn't run away yet. I got a funky taste in my mouth and it sucks, I officially hate going to the dentist. The whole time I was there though, I thought about what to write for this, thus the update. Oh and so everybody knows I may pretend to hold my story hostage, but I won't actually do it. Even if I got no reviews, I'd probably keep updating; but still I love the reviews, they make me happy and when I'm happy, I write more... do you see a pattern forming?(I'm sure Charlie would) But for you non-Charlie's that might be out there... PLEASE OH PLEASE REVIEW!

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**Chapter Three: Feel The Burn**

"Dad?" Don jogged quickly into the homeless shelter and spotted his father folding some slightly tattered, but freshly washed clothes.

"Donny? What are you doing here?" Alan asked with a confused look in his eyes.

"Stevens has been spotted and threatened us, we need to get you somewhere safe," Don explained, unaware that his father knew nothing yet of the days events.

"Stevens? The arson investigator? What's wrong with your arm? Donny!" Alan raised his voice a bit upon seeing his boy's injured arm.

"Stevens in the arsonist, he escaped and threatened us. And my arm is nothing, just a small burn, but we have to go," Don whispered to his dad, when Alan made no movement he said a little louder, "Now!"

Alan apologized to the other volunteers explaining it was an emergency and followed his eldest son out to the car, once in the car he pressed, "Okay Donny I want some detail, what is going on?"

Don started up the vehicle and stared at the road while he spoke, "We were at the Glendale Developement and Stevens escaped, but not before leaving something to cause a fire, two of our agents died and many more were injured; that's how I got this," he moved his arm a little, "I told Charlie about it and he needed a ride home so I told him to wait in the car and..."

"And what?" Alan questioned, moving his son's story along.

"Stevens was waiting for him, but Charlie convinced him to let him go. Charlie didn't tell me until about an hour or so ago. So here we are," Don finished, still staring straight ahead.

"Where's Charlie now?" his father asked worriedly.

"I have an agent on him, Dad, don't worry," Don replied quickly, not quite in the mood to talk about his brother. He had no idea of the professor's dire predicament.

Alan sat back in the passenger's seat with a sigh, it was obvious the two fo them had an argument. It was most likely about Charlie's delay in telling Don about being threatened by the criminal.

He wished they wouldn't get into these arguments, exspecially when things were stressed and extremely tense. And tense it was, he could feel the vibes coming off his oldest and suddenly he got the most horrible feeling of premonition, "Don hurry, I think somethings up with Charlie," Alan told him, not taking the time to explain.

"Dad, I told you Charlie is fine, there is no need to rush," Don's eyes still gazed unfazingly at the road before making a left.

"A father knows when his son is in trouble, Don and Charlie is in trouble, I just know it," Alan argued with an intense passion that showed in his eyes when Don took a moment to glance at them.

"Fine Dad, but seriously, Charlie is going to feel like you're treating him like a little kid," Don sped up on the route to his younger brother's house.

"Don if anyone here needs to think about Charlie's feelings more it's you, I heard about your outburst at the office and I don't think it ended there," his father eyed his face searching for any indication that he'd hit a nerve, but Don remained silent and neutral.

Alan shook his head despairingly, knowing he wouldn't be able to get through to his son at the moment, they pulled up at the driveway and the two of them climbed out. Something was odd about the house, it was eerily quiet and a white material seemed to be attached to the door.

Alan reached it first and pulled the piece of paper off, reading it out loud to his son: _I wouldn't open any of the garage doors if I were you. Charlie would hate that. _It was signed simply and arrogantly, _Paul._

Don whipped around in a circle, desperately hoping Stevens or Charlie would be in his sight, but to his dismay, it was only him and his father.

"Don,"Alan spoke up quietly and handed over the note, "I don't know about you, but in my world...this is not fine."

Completely ignoring his father he listened carefully, hearing a slight ringing. _Maybe I'm going crazy, but my guess is... I'm not,_ he thought to himself and he followed the extremely faint noise. After a moment of straining his eyes and ears, he found it. 'It' was a small cell phone in the mail box on low volume. Flipping it open without a second thought, he pressed it against his ear.

"Hello Don, finally found my gift have you?" Stevens asked with a small chuckle and Don narrowed his eyes. Alan gave him a confused look, but the anger in Don's eyes gave everything away. Don raised a finger to his father, silencing him.

"Yeah, where's Charlie? What did you do to him?" Don asked immedaitely, though he knew Stevens would not give him the answer. to his surprise he did.

"He's in the garage with the agent of course," Stevens told him and Don could picture the man's evil grin in his mind, "He's a little tied up and unable to talk, but you knew that."

"I guessed," Don replied curtly, the rage he was supressing still showed in his voice.

"I wouldn't try to get in there, the door opens and everything in the garage will be aflame, including your _precious_ little brother," Paul taunted, hitting every nerve Don had in his body, "But the way you've been blowing up at him, he probably doesn't think he's so precious to you. I know better;though... don't I, Eppes?"

"Yeah," Don forced out, knowing going along with whatever charade Stevens was playing was his only option at the moment, "How did you know Charlie and I were fighting?" He asked with a bout of curiousness, did Paul have his house bugged?

"Just a little two way radio I put in your garage after my meeting with Charlie in your car. It's going to be so much fun to be able to taunt poor Charlie from the comfort of my little hideout," the voice seemed surprisingly calm, but he could hear the pleasure Paul was getting out of the situation.

"I swear I'm going to find a way to get him out of there and then I'm going to find you and break everybone in your body," Don bellowed into the phone in a rage and Paul cut him off with a short chuckle.

"Just thought I'de let you know, I can detonate the place at any second if I want, but I'm enjoying watching you skwirm," Paul laughed in a way that chilled him to his bones.

"Listen Paul, whatever you want, you can have it. What do you want?" Don asked seriously, anything to get his brother back unharmed, anything.

"What I want," Paul took a pause, just to build up the agent's hopes, "Is to prove I'm smarter than you and your so-called genius brother." Without another word the arsonist disconnected the phone, along with any way to get Charlie out safely.

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Charlie tried desperately not to dwell on the impending doom of his situation, but his mind kept dancing at the subject, making it impossible to forget. He could hear his brother yell something angrily and felt with some certainty the anger was directed at him. Again he'd gotten himself into trouble, but this time he'd gotten somebedy killed as well. Don was probably livid with rage.

He blinked his eye irritably, trying to clear the blurry vision, it was only slightly clearer, but that was a good sign. A good sign if ever there was one.

What was wrong with him? Couldn't he take care of himself? Don hadn't been there, in the car, wasn't the one staring down the barrel of a gun. How could he have possibly expected him to say anything. It wasn't his job to have guns pointed at him or his job to be threatened, he had never been in a situation like that before...statistically, it would be expected that he'd error somehow on dealing with it.

His thoughts were interupted by a sudden stinging pain on parts of his chest, back and the top of his thighs, peering downward, he saw that's where most of the gasoline had landed. The gasoline in his hair and bare skin had since evaporated, but the fact that his clothing was drenched in it did not help matters. That however; was a bad sign, a very bad sign.

A low moan escaped him as the stinging became sharper and steadily worse. He jerked a little in the chair, trying to relieve the pain in any way possible, but nothing stopped it.

The crackle of a radio caught his attention for a second, distracting him only slightly from his agony, "_Can you feel the burn yet, Charlie?"_

Paul laughed uproarously at his muffled groaning, until the pain was so horrifying he felt compelled to scream, but the gag over his mouth denied him.

Sobs escaped the professors mouth, loud enough so that some of the sound surpassed the gag and could be heard, probably only adding to Stevens sick sadistic pleasure.

He heard his dad calling to him, but the noise was quiet, muffled through the walls and he could only pick out a few words, "Coming...It's okay...hold on...love... " He wished that he could call back and tell his father and Don he loved them too, but all he could do was try to bear the pain.

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Angrily Don nearly smashed the cell phone into the pavement, but Alan grabbed his hand and took it from him. Don stared at him with a look of desperation, pain and anger.

Looking away, he called for backup, it was the only thing he could think of doing. Everything had gone to hell so fast, what had been the last thing he'd said to his brother? A snark remark about the sniper incident, and that was after the comments he'd made that he knew would hurt Charlie the most: _How can you be so smart, but so damn stupid! _ and _God Charlie, what is wrong with you?_ Were those really going to be the last things he'd ever say to his brother, the brother that idolized him so much and would do anything to please him. Guilt overwhelmed Don in a rush of emotion and he sank to his knees as he waited for back up.

The sirens faded into his awareness and in the corner of his mind he heard his father calling through the garage to his brother. What had he done?

Muffled sobs were now coming from the inside of the garage and they sounded like cries of tortured pain. If there was one thing he could do at that moment, it would be to transfer whatever pain Charlie was feeling...onto himself.

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A/N: Not my best... but my plot bunny decided this was where this chap needed to go. Yes I have Charlie in pain and Donnie all angsty over it, people say its an overused plotline, but I like it. Besides I need to write this or I'll never be able to finish any of my other stories. This plot bunny has locked all my others in a cage, once it is satisfied, he should let them all out again, or at least I hope so.


	4. My Brother

Disclaimer: Lemme check...I own a doctor's appointment (for my crazy brain jk, lol), a dentist appointment, a bunch of peoms, a few no where near finished novels... but certainly not Numb3rs, unfortunately. So please don't sue, all your gonna get is some appointments and some scribbled on paper.

Summary:AU to Scorched. Paul Stevens never died and now he's off to teach the FBI a lesson for trying to stop his revenge on firemen. What'll he do to prove he's smarter than the FBI and their genius consultant.

Spoilers: Tiny bit for Uncertainty Principal in chapter 1 and major spoilers for Scorched throughout. Also a tiny itty bitty one for Sniper Zero in chapter 2.

A/N: I really do hope I'm not making you wait all that long though. I'm also very sorry for readers of "A Million" but as I said, some plot bunnies are stronger than others. That or my evil attack cat actually likes this one...yes I have an attack cat, the problem is, it's me he attacks. I'm tired, so yeah, I'm tired. Just be glad this isn't random fact time, because it takes awhile and with me and a friend of mine, it turns into "who we love time". Hehe, can you guess the first name that comes out of my mouth for that one. Anyway I hope you like this chapter!

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**Chapter 4: My Brother**

The ringing of the phone once again interupted the events of the evening and Don answered, knowing full well who it was, "Stevens, what do you want now?"

"Don," Paul tsk-tsked at him mockingly, "Is that really the way you want to talk to me?"

"Paul... Is there something I can do for you?" Don asked, forcing an extremely fake polite tone.

"Much muchbetter, I just called to see how you were taking it," Paul chuckled at his own humorless joke.

"Stop playing with me Paul," Don warned angrily, he didn't know how much more of this taunting he could take.

"But it's so much fun," Paul added a false pout to his voice.

"Paul..." Don trailed off and the arsonist could hear his frustration.

"Fine, fine, ruin my fun, just figured it was about time I told you, after four hours of exposure, those fumes in there, will kill your baby brother. If he's so smart, why can't he find a way out. If you're smart, why can't you find a way in?" Paul questioned and Don could hear the anger in his voice, "Maybe I should end his suffering and just push this little button... do you want meto make it easier on him? I could do you that mercy, you know?"

"No, don't. God Paul don't kill him," Don heard himself beg, and he never begged, never. He still had some small hope that Charlie could be saved.

"Are you sure, Don? All it would take is-" Paul began, but was quickly cut off.

"No, don't, give us more time. Please Paul, you know you're smarter than us," Don tried to bargain, "Why not give us more time, it would make you seem even smarter if we had time and still couldn't..." He stopped before he said _save him._ He didn't even want to think of the possibily they'd fail, but it was the only way to gain more time.

"Alright, but everytime you hear him cry or scream through that gag, just remember, you chose that for him," and with that, he hung up.

"Damn, I hope I'm doing the right thing," Don whispered to himself as he heard Charlie let out another muffled scream.

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The pain was so intense it seemed to overwhelm him, the garage spun around him crazily and he couldn't shake the feeling he wasn't going to get out of there. He writhed in pain, screaming and only succeeded in making it worse as his shirt pulled from the gasoline burns on his chest. He had to figure out a way to at least get out of his restraints if he was going to be any help to his brother. Only then, did he find the strength to contain his screams.

Looking over to the side, he saw Agent Marshall's dead body, the man that had died to try and protect him, one of Don's agents. If he hadn't have told, Don wouldn't be angry at him and Agent Marshall would have gone home to his family, instead of going to his death. It was all his fault and he knew it. A new agony tore at him, guilt, if it wasn't for him...maybe this still would've happened, but there would be one less man dead to the world.

He shook his head, trying to shake the smell of the fumes out of his nose, but no dice. They were already zapping his energy, if he had to guess how long he'd been in there, Charlie estimated about an hour. The longer he was in there, the harder he would breath and the more fumes would make their way into his blood stream. If he could get the gag off, he could use the cloth to hopefully filter out some of the fumes, giving Don slightly more time.

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, noting the blurriness was slowly fading before doing so, and leaned forward, breathing heavily in agony. Gathering his strength, he took another brutal attempt to escape his wooden prison and more pain tore through his body. The chair squeaked forward with the movement of his body, getting ever closer to the fire bomb. Maybe, just maybe, if he could get out of the chair and disarm it, he could get out alive.

Panting he pushed one foot forward and the pulled the other one back, switched and kept moving his feet untilhis anklesbecame raw from the friction. Taking a short break, he did it again and felt it getting slowly but steadily looser. Finally he was able to shove the tie from his feet. Now all he needed to do was slide his way up the chair to escape the belt. His hands would remain behind him until he had the room to push them under his legs and out in front of him.

He wiggled around in the chair, hoping that maybe he could loosen his remaining bindings before even attempting to slide up the chair, but to no avail. A sudden hot flash of pain overcame his chest, sucking the breath out of him, and his world faded to black. Charlie wasn't getting out of there anytime soon.

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Bomb Squad thought it pertinent to show up onlyforty-five minutesearlier and Don was livid that nothing had been done sooner, this was _his_ little brother they were talking about. This wasn't just any victim of a hostage situation, this was his family, now he knew what it was like to be on the other side of the fence. The impatience that came with having a loved one in danger.

Quickly composing himself, he talked to his team, minus Megan, "Okay, Colby get your group to canvas the entire area. Stevens said he enjoyed watching me skwirm, so he's around here somewhere, with a veiw of what's going on. David, your group needs to look into Stevens' home and office, find out what kind of explosives he has, plans...anything to tell us what he might have used in the garage. The judge has already signed a warrant for both," Don explained what needed to be done to his agents, "I am stressing the fact to you, this needs to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible, Charlie had three hours, more likely less. We have to catch Sevens before we try and rescue Charlie, or else he'll detonate. "

Both Colby and David nodded, taking the two agent's each had with them, "C'mon guys spread out," Colby told them as Davids climbed into his SUV and went to search Stevens' apartment.

"Don?" He whipped around to see his father's worried face.

"Dad? What is it? What's wrong?" Don asked in a rush, hoping nothing had happened. What if Charlie had fallen over or something? He could be in even more pain.

"I can't hear him," Alan explained with watery eyes, "He could be, he could be..." But he could bring himself to say it.

"Dad, I'm sure thats not it, he has at least three hours before the fumes overtake him, and Stevens is giving us some time," he tried to calm his father, then winced, realizing Alan did not know about the fumes yet.

"The fumes, what fumes? You mean... oh my god," his mind reeled, his son was fading from him faster. He couldn't handle losinghis baby boy so young, only thirty years old. Only a fraction of his life lived, he never thought he might outlive one of his sons. Exspecially not Charlie, he was just a professor, a really good math professor.

"Dad, calm down. Go sit on the curb or something. I'm sure Charlie's fine," Don reassured his father, but in his mind he added, _for now_.

He put his hand on the garage door and yelled to his brother, "Charlie...C'mon Buddy, answer me! I'm really sorry about what I said! You were right, what did I expect of you, you had a gun in your face. Charlie it's not your fault! Do me a favor 'kay? Hang in there, were gonna get you out of there, I promise."

There was no answer whatsoever, not even a muffled call, but a reassuring sound did come when he pressed his ear against the door, Charlie's breathing. It was loud and strained, but it was there.

He turned around for a moment and addresses one of the Bomb Squad members, "Bartolomio?" Is there _anything_ you can do to get in there without setting anything off?"

"Call me Gino and you know as well as I do Agent Eppes, that unless we know what kind of explosive there is, it's unpredictable. If no one was in there, we'd detonate in place, but there's a civilian in there and we aren't neanderthals," Gino gave him a harsh look.

"Neither is the FBI, exspecially when there is an agent's younger brother is involved," Don returned the look angrily. What did these guys take them for?

"Tell your agent I'm sorry about the situation," Gino immediately took on a sympathetic tone, "I can understand what he's going through, back in Dallas, where I used to live, my wife and kids were murdered my someone who's plans I ruined. They never caught the guy, either. Cara and Anita were only seven at the time, their names meant 'beloved and grace' and they were. They both wanted to be ballerina's. Evelina, my wife, her name meant 'give life or light'. They were my everything." The head of Bomb Squad reminisced sadly.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Hearing his story, made him think about the possibiliy Charlie might not make it, "God I hope that doesn't happen to Charlie..." Don trailed off with a shake of his head.

"Charlie your agent?" Gino asked quietly.

Don shook his head sadly once again, "Charlie's my brother. "

"Agent Eppes, my team will do everything we can to get your brother out of this alive. It ends here," Gino told him with determination, he would not let anyone else have to deal with something so similar towhat he had to.

Don smiled appreciatively, but before he could reply, a loud thump came from the garage, "CHARLIE!"

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A/N: I just proved my status as the Queen of Cliffies, didn't I? Lol sorry about that. Well I hope you enjoyed my fourth chapter of Fired Up. Please review! Constructive critism is welcome, flames(ironic isn't it) will be disregarded and PRAISE WILL BE TREASURE ALWAYS.

Anyway... please review and I'll try to update ASAP! But yeah real life sucks, and I have other stories, so pllllllllleeeeaaaaasssssse don't mob my house or extract my eyeballs if I don't. Besides I need my eyes to type.

With Tons of Love

Nicole LeQuant


	5. Deadman's Switch

1A/N: Sorry about the wait, but I started co-authoring something with a friend and she has me running around like a lapdog, lol. Seriously, she has me typing for it everyday and such. She just loves our story I guess. As for "A Million" I have no idea when the next chap will be up, but I hope it will be soon. Again real life sucks, I've been having a horrible time catching up on my homework and dealing with my grandfather's death. Also hockey is so brutal and it hurts to move. I'm bruised everywhere, and my back kills. Not to mention I've had my jerk of an ex-boyfriend telling me to go kill myself, that kinda ruined my writing mood for awhile. Anyway, here's chapter five...

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**Chapter 5: _Deadman's Switch_**

"Hey Charlie...having fun in there? I heard you had a little accident," Paul's taunting voice awoke him. His head felt like a sledge hammer had slammed into it.

Charlie opened his eyes painfully, still bound in the chair, but laying on his side now, _How did this happen again? _He asked himself with a muffled groan. Wincing, he remembered trying to slide his way up the chair, and being knocked off balance. Thinking quickly, he realized it might be easier to wiggle his way out with the chair on the floor.

"Awww c'mon Charlie, are you not gonna answer me?" Paul kept mocking him ruthlessly, drowning out almost everything else. His voice repeating over in his head when not coming from the radio.

Vaguely he heard his brother calling to him, was he still mad? He was screaming pretty loudly, he was definitely still upset in Charlie's opinion. Or maybe he was worried? Probably pissed that Charlie had been able to get an agent killed and put himself in danger.

The belt slid with him and finally, he was able to get out of the chair. He stiffened in pain as he pushed his hands down behind them and twisted his hands so they were in front of him. Ripping out the gag, Charlie so badly wanted to yell into the radio, but he knew that Paul knowing he was out of most of his bonds was not a good thing. He'd probably detonate the thing right away.

He kneeled down beside the firebomb and looked it over, afraid to touch it, in case it went off. He heard his dad yelling for him and he wished he could call back. It took everything he had to force himself to say quiet, but he knew it had to be done. His cuffed hands hovered over the firebomb hesitantly._ Damn it! _He thought to himself, he had no idea how to disarm it. Well, he had an idea, but if he wasn't sure, he could end up killing himself and possibly the people outside.

He looked to the door and the mechanism hooked up to it, maybe if he got it down, he could get out. Frowning he remembered Steven's was watching everything that went on outside; if he took one step outside before Paul was caught, he was a dead man for sure. He tried to get it down anyway.

Using the chair to reach it, he gently took the jar from it's shelf and placed it carefully on a different, lower one, not hooked up to the device. As he climbed down, the chair skidded on the floor, right out from under his feet. Charlie crashed down to the ground and grimaced as he landed awkwardly on his hand. Biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain, he curled up into a ball, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to ease the pain.

He was free in one small way, but there was still nothing he could do. His breathe caught in his throat and he grabbed the coth and covered his nose in it, but it only helped a little. He was so cold, but his chest, back and thighs burnt like crazy. Wheezing, he shivered uncontrollably and struggled to breath.

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"Donnie? What's going on?" Alan asked his son, worry overwhelming his thoughts.

"I don't know, Dad. There was a big thump, I think he may have fallen over, or possibly knocked something over," Don rubbed his eyes tiredly, "but he's not crying out anymore, so...I just don't know what happened."

Alan turned to the door again and called to his son, "Charlie? Can you hear me? Charlie, are you alright? Hold on son, Donnie'll get you out of there in no time!" There was no answer, but Alan wasn't expecting one, he just wanted Charlie to know they hadn't abandoned him.

"Hey Eppes!"Gino called to Don and he turned to face the bomb squad member.

"Yeah?"

"There's a girl trying to get in here, keeps asking for your brother. I told her it's not safe, but she won't listen," he called back, and Don could see him holding Amita back from the taped off area.

"Let her in, it's all right," Don told him and ran to meet up with his brother's friend, "Amita, what are you doing here?"

"Don, what's going on? Why is bomb squad here? Where's Charlie?" Question after question flew out of her mouth before she could give Don a chance to answer.

"Amita," Don said quietly, looking her in the eyes as calmly as he could, "Charlie's in the garage and the arsonist has some sort of firebomb inside." He took a deep breath and waited for her reaction.

"Wha- Don, you have to be kidding. I only talked to him a couple of hours ago," Amita told him disbelievingly, unwilling to believe her friend was in danger. It couldn't be true, but yet reality had a way of catching up to you and biting you in the ass. This was just one of those times.

"I'm not kidding Amita. I-I wish I was," he confessed and she could see the guilt that lay deeply hidden in his eyes, only peeking out for a moment.

"No... this can't be happening," Amita paused for a moment and asked, "Does Larry know?"

"No, not yet, maybe you should call him," Don suggested as his cell phone rang, "Eppes?"

"Don? It's David, we might have something," the agent informed him.

"Like what? David hurry up," Don ordered, but he was more pleading with his agent than anything else.

"White phosphorus is there definetely, Stevens had a ton of the stuff. There were some chemisty papers from the internet, he used the an exact combination of substances to make the fumes more potinent," David told him quickly, knowing that time was not on their side. It seemed nothing or no one was.

"Alright, anything else?" Don asked, hoping there would be some indication of how to free Charlie.

"Nothing, it seems this was pretty rushed. As for the chemistry, he probably knew where to find those papers before hand. Don, this isn't good, from the looks of it, the only way to get Charlie out safely is from the inside. If we try to go in, everything blows. The only chance Charlie has is himself," David explained the bad news to his boss.

"So there's nothing we can do?" Don asked quietly, straining to keep the emotion in his voice under control.

"We can catch that bastard and make him tell us," Agent Sinclaire suggested, but knew even if so, it would be futile. Stevens would rather die than see Charlie come out safe, and they all knew it.

"It's our only choice of action right now, let's get him. I'll get a hold of Colby and see how he's doing," Don replied carefully and hung up the phone without another word. He looked around searching for a place that might give Stevens a view of the events, but nothing caught his eye. Put of the corner of his eye, he saw Amita talking into her cell phone and hang up. "Was that Larry?" He questioned.

"Yeah, he's on his way here," Amita said, brushing away a stray tear and hoping that he hadn't noticed. She was barely holding herself together, never before had she ever encountered a similar situation. Sure, she'd lost people before, or had loved ones in danger, but it was always non-violent, a disease or accident. No one she cared for had ever been victim of a violent crime before, until Charlie. She just had no idea how to cope with the situation.

"It'll be alright...he'll be alright," Don tried to reassure her, but he couldn't help but wonder, would it? Or would he be attending his little brother's funeral in a couple days? His genius, big-hearted little brother, who he'd hurt so badly even though he knew he was in serious danger. Now he could do nothing to save him, and it was all his fault.

"You don't know that, no one does," Amita replied in barely more than a whisper. She left Don where he stood and went over to the garage door, "Charlie? It's me, Amita. Please hold on, don't...don't leave me!" She called to him and let the torrent of tears come falling down.

Don flipped open his cell phone and hit speed-dial, "Colby? What do you have? Are you close?"

"Don, we're so close it's not even funny. We have a witness and we're on our way to where he was last spotted," finally they had some good news. It was enough to make Don jump for joy, but likewise, he didn't.

"Get him and bring him to me," Don ordered, the rage showing in his voice. He had a settle to score with that man and one way or another, he was getting Charlie back. He flipped his phone closed once more and gazed into the now setting sun. They were close, but would it be enough?

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"Kay, guys, let's move in on him, but no one shoot," Colby gestured to the man using the telescope on the overhang. It was set up in such a way that Paul could see Don, but not the other way around.

"Why not?" One of the snipers scratched his head, "If we get a head shot, there's no chance in hell he can hit the detonator."

"Ever hear of a deadman's switch?" Colby asked him, though he already knew the answer.

"No..." the sniper answered, leaving Colby room to elaborate.

"Basically, if he dies, the firebomb goes off and our hostage dies," Colby told him, there was no time for technical explanations. The sniper only nodded, "Everyone in position?" Colby asked into his radio. A volley of 'yessirs' followed. He knew Don wanted the man brought back, but he also knew Stevens would detonate before he was ever caught, "Sorry Don," he murmured to himself.

"Alright, I'm going to get an update from Agent Sinclaire and we'll go from there," he let the cell phone ring for a moment and David answered.

"Agent Sinclaire?"

"David, from what you have, is there a deadman's switch?" Colby left no time for small talk, this was not the situation for it.

"I don't know yet...I need more time to analyze these plans-"

Colby cut him off, "We don't have more time, Charlie only has maybe an hour before the fumes kill him, he could be unconscious already!"

"This is my best guess...no," David told him and Colby could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"I'm counting on you, so is Charlie," Colby warned, not to challenge David's judgement, but the other agent just didn't sound too sure.

"I know," was the only answer he got and then dial-tone. He knew it wasn't personal, it was just to save precious time.

"Do we have a green light?" A voice crackled through the radio.

"Green light," Colby answered and a gun shot cracked through the air.

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A/N: I didn't much care for this chapter, but I hoped you liked it, please review. There should be two or three more, but I'm not sure.


	6. Never Give Up

A/N: I deeply apologize for taking soooooo long to update, things have been going on. I found out I'm moving to Golden B.C. and leaving all the people I care about behind. Also there was a charity event I took part in. The biggest reason I didn't update until now is I lost all my notes and previous work on this chapter and had to completely rewrite it. I'd just like to thank Alice I for suggestions on this story, it made rewriting it easier since I still had them in my email inbox. I've decided to use some of them. Also one of them gave me an idea of my own. I hope it reaches your approval.

Love: Nicole

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He stood up difficultly and his world spun dizzily around him. Charlie's fingers grasped at the edges of his shirt, he just had to get it off. The burning was killing him. Struggling to lift it over his head, he wobbled dangerously near a jar of chemicals. He swallowed thickly as he stumbled, narrowly missing it. He threw the soaked shirt to the floor and looked around. There had to be a way to get out without Stevens being aware or at least a way to give him more time.

The dryer caught his attention and his mind worked as quickly as it could. He quickly secured the lids back onto the jars, something he should've done a half hour ago, when he'd first gotten free from the chair. At least now no new fumes would leach into the air, he only had to deal with the ones already there. Snatching up the bubble wrap that Paul had foolishly left behind in his haste, Charlie rewrapped the jars and placed them as carefully as he could in the dryer, all with only his unijured hand. He made sure the dryer was unplugged, just in case. If something accidentally hit the on button, his goose was cooked.

His eyes wandered to the washing machine and it was like a little light bulb turned on in his head. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? Breathing heavily he lifted the firebomb with two hands and grimacing as he did, he placed it in the washing machine. With a small smile he thought, _who's the smart one now? _He closed the lid, turned on the washing machine and listened to the sound of the water enveloping it. Stevens inane plan to kill him was useless now. All he had to do, was get out.

He opened the lid and looked down at the soaked device, just as the dizzying fumes that still floated through the room began to overcome him once again. His eyelids were heavy and Charlie's tired legs gave out on him. Crashing to the floor for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day, he lay his head on the ground beside Stevens radio. If Paul felt like taunting him again, finally he'd teach him a little lesson of his own.

"Charlie?" He thought he heard Colby's voice over the radio, his prayers were answered. Don would come get him now, he trusted his brother completely on that.

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All that followed the gunshot was a deadly silence, no thunderous _boom_, just silence. Colby ran down the encampment to the overhang and touched two fingers to Stevens' neck and was satisfied to feel nothing but cool skin, no pulse. It was cold of him, but the man had caused them enough trouble already and it still wasn't over.

He leaned over and saw the two way radio, picking it up, he called into it, "Charlie? Man don't worry it's almost over, Paul's dead."

The reply came weak and tired, "S'over? He's gone?" Charlie asked into the radio.

"Almost over, we just got to get you out now," Colby reassured the young man.

"It hurts," Charlie rasped and Colby could hear his strained breaths.

"Hang on, just a little longer," but there was no reply. Abandoning the radio for a moment, Colby called Don. "Don? Stevens is dead.

"What? How are we supposed to get Charlie out?" Don questioned, worry and anger fighting for a spot in his tone of voice.

"I don't know, all I know is he's got the gag out," Colby replied. He looked into the telescope and saw Don talking to him, "It's up to him now."

Colby was greeted by the dial-tone.

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Don hung up on his agent, there was nothing he could do to save his little brother, it was over. He looked to Gino, who had a similar sadness in his eyes.

Gino felt for the agent, he empathized with his situation. It always hurt when there was no saving the victim, but this was worst. The victim was his new friend's family and losing family was the hardest.

Amita slumped down, sitting on the stoop, it seemed as though everyone had given up. Soon they all would be ushered out of the area and the house would be detonated in place, Charlie and all. All the 'could have beens' and 'what ifs' clouded her mind, but she wouldn't give up, she promised herself silently. She pushed herself off the stoop and ran up to Don.

"You can't give up, not now, we're too close," she pleaded with the FBI agent. She could see the defeat in his eyes, and Don was never defeated. It wasn't like him at all. During this, something had taken Don from them, she had to get him back, for Charlie's sake.

"Too close to what, watching Charlie die?" Don muttered cynically. This was not supposed to happen, Stevens was never supposed to get away in the first place.

"Don, where are you living! How can you just give up? This is Charlie we're talking about, he's genius, do you really think he can't help himself? Do you really think you can't help him?" Amita paused before she said her last sentence. She knew it was what she was about to say to would send Don over the edge, but it had to be done, "Or maybe you don't want to save him?" She didn't mean the last part, but it gave the desired affect.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" He screamed at her, gaining unwanted attention, "Of course I want my brother back!"

"Then prove it Don, get him back," she said gently, looking up at his livid face.

"I will, I'm going in," he stated and rushed toward the front door before anyone could stop him. He didn't care that the building would most likely detonate, he was going to save his brother, or die trying.

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Charlie crawled toward the doorway, wondering why they hadn't come and got him yet. Was this Don's way of punishment or did they expect him to get out himself?

He clamped the cloth over his nose and used the floor as leverage to push himself into a sitting position. Breathing deeply, he rested a moment and tried to get to his feet. He thought he heard his brother screaming angrily, but he couldn't be sure.

He made it to the door by sheer determination and finally reached the cleaner air of his home. His rag dropped to the floor and he used the wall to lean against. His goal seemed so far, yet so close to him. With a burst of energy he stumbled forward, out the door and straight into his brother's chest.

"Holy shit! Charlie!" He heard his brother whisper, he wasn't still mad, was he?

"Don?" His head spun as he felt his brother's arms close around him, "M'sorry. His world faded to black without another thought.

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Don caught his brother in his arms as he fell and lowered them both to the ground. With his brother half in his lap, he hugged him tight, "Don't be sorry, Buddy, it's my fault. I never should've given up on you."

He felt a couple paramedics pull him away from his brother and he fought them off, Charlie needed him right now. Nothing was going to stop him from being there for him. He'd failed to do that too many times before, in High School and when he'd left L.A. to work in Fugitive Recovery, he wouldn't do that again.

"Don, he needs to go the hospital, he's not out of the woods yet," he heard Gino explain gently and he finally let them take his baby brother. He watched as they loaded him onto a stretcher and closed the ambulance doors.

"Dad? He turned around to face Alan.

His father's comforting hand rested on his shoulder, "Don't worry Don, he'll be fine now."

"He thinks I'm still angry at him," Don told Alan about Charlie's apology, "I gave up on him... and he apologized _to me_."

"Donnie, let's go to the hospital, then you can tell him yourself your not angry," His father said wisely and led him to the car.

"Mr. Eppes? Could I get a ride too?" Amita asked quietly from where she was standing in the driveway.

"Get in," was the only answer she got, it was from Don. Apparently, he had forgiven her.

Don knew Amita had only said what she said to get through to him, and he was glad she did.

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A/N: Again I am so sorry this took so long, things came up and that it is shorter than usual. Please review. A few more chapters to go. I hope you all enjoyed.


	7. No Waiting ListI'll do It

A/N: Okay I decided to do the first part of this chapter from the doctor's point of view. This chapter is dedicated to my close friend Ashley Imhoff who's almost as obsessed with Charlie as I am! Okay, but who doesn't love a big-hearted genius, and that hair, oh my goodness, we love his hair and those eyes, they're so deep... Sorry, I'm rambling now, lol. The doctor is also based on her, although she's no where as nice as the doctor is. My friend is comepletely evil, I swear. The only time she ever acts the slightest bit girly, giggley or nice at all is when we talk about Charlie(which we do alot). Here's chapter seven.

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"Severe burns to the thighs, back and chest, some damage done to the left cornia, he also suffered inhalation of deadly fumes. Your going to have to do a tox screen," the paramedic informed the doctor as Charlie was rushed into the ER.

"Room 19 was just vacated, get him in there," the dark blonde doctor ordered quickly, "Ryan! Get over here, we need your help!"

"Yes Dr. Imhoff!" The young man answered enthusiastically, he was a new med student and wanted to start helping out right away. He had dark curls and brown eyes, not unlike Charlie, although Ryan's hair was shorter.

Ryan helped get Charlie's stretcher into Room 19 of the Intensive Care Unit, "Ok, Ryan do have a good grip?" Dr. Imhoff asked quickly. He nodded as he gripped the sheet under the unconscious man firmly, "One, two, three!" They hefted him off the stretcher and onto the bed.

There was a flurry of activity as they removed his remaining clothing, and the hospital gown tooks its place. They covered him up to his waist with a thin sheet, "Ryan, elevate his legs," the young doctor commanded the student and he hesitated, "to reduce the swelling involved with those burns," she clarified. She placed an oxygen mask over the young man's face and watched as he breathed heavily. She hoped it wouldn't be too much of a problem, it would be better if they could abstain from putting him on a ventilator.

Dr. Imhoff began to speak quietly to the unconscious man, "Dr. Charles Eppes? Do you mind if I call you Charles?" She knew there would be no reponse but was shocked when a voice answered.

"His name's Charlie," She whipped around to face a hagard looking man, who's eyes bore a terrible burden.

"I'm sorry, but you can't be here. It's procedure," she told him as gently as he could.

Don flashed his badge, "Agent Donald Eppes, that's my brother...please let me stay with him."

She relented and nodded silently, she could tell she wouldn't get any trouble from him, "Alright, just stay out of the way okay?" She got no answer, but the yes was understood, "Charlie? I'm Dr. Ashley Imhoff I'm going to check out your burns now okay?" She quietly untied the gown and slide it down to his waist, leaving his chest exposed. The burns were extensive and she guessed at second degree by the looks of them. They would be very painful when he awoke. The skin was red and blistered and it was luckly that none of the blisters had broken, the area would have an increased probability of infected if they were.

"Ryan? Go get an IV quick!"

Don heard all of the medical talk Dr. Imhoff was spitting out at her assistant, but his mind was elsewhere. How could he have left Charlie when he knew the danger he was in. Sure, he'd trusted Agent Marshall, but it hadn't been enough. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had only stayed.

He saw his little brother laying there unmoving as the doctor inserted the IV into his arm and began to lightly bandage the burns with fresh gauze. It was unreal to see his brother that way and be unable to help him, he felt so damn helpless, and he hated it. He could only watch as his brother lay in the hands of two people he didn't know, and one was only a medical student, not even a doctor yet. A needle caught his eye and he looked up at the doctor hesitantly, he wanted to know everything that was happening to Charlie, "Whats that for?" He knew that it was most likely antibiotics or to take blood for Tox, but he wanted to be sure.

"I need to take some blood and give him an antibiotic shot, it's only to help him, you know that Agent," Dr. Imhoff explained gently, she knew he just cared for his brother. She took a the unit of blood she needed for testing purposes and passed it off to Ryan. She talked Charlie completely through it even though he couldn't hear a word of it.

It made Don wonder slightly about her, she was an especially compassionate doctor, he was glad she'd been assigned to take care of Charlie. He just wished that it was an unnessecsary experience. He watched as she pulled the gown down again to uncover his little brother's burnt thighs. The skin looked almost shiny, Don had seen burn victims before, but none of them had been his brother and he had to look away. The mathematician was helpless on the bed, comepletely exposed and it wasn't supposed to be that way. _It should be me there on that hospital bed, not him... _was all he could think.

The med student still hadn't returned and Ashley started for the door to find a nurse to help her turn the young man over without irritating the newly bandaged burns on his front.

"Where are you going?" Don asked, didn't she know he had more burns that she needed to take care of?

"I need to get Charlie turned over to treat his back, it should only take a second to flag down a nurse," she told him with a soft smile.

"Let me help," he offered quietly, but in truth it was more of a plea, he wanted to do something to help his brother, anything.

Dr. Imhoff hesitated, but saw the look in the agent's eyes. Even though she could get suspended for it, or even fired, she nodded, "Okay, but only do what i tell you to do, nothing else." Not many victims or their families affected her in such a way, but there was something about the two of them. Her job didn't have the same joy in it it used to have. This case seriously made her think about quitting, "Put your hand behind his right should gently, I already checked and there isn't a burn there. Use your other hand on his lower back, ok push up, but not too quickly."

Carefully the two of them got Charlie onto his side and she started to treat him right away, Ryan came in just as she finished and looked at her puzzled, "Ashley..."

"Not now Ryan, and your not supposed to call me that here. Dr. Imhoff...remember?" She spat unintentionally, unaware that the agent finally had a small smirk on his face. It was quite obvious the two were close, but the smile was quickly replaced when complete silence was evident in the room, there was no sound of Charlie ragged breaths.

"ASHLEY! He isn't breathing!" Ryan yelled at her, forgetting her reprimand only a few seconds ago, knowing that she already knew the patient was in distress.

"Get a ventilator NOW! I'll keep him going until then," she bellowed back and went into action, her patient was depending on her. Leaning over him, she removed the oxygen mask and breath life saving air into his lungs. She stopped for a second and watched for signs of him breathing on his own and found none.

She breathed for the young man for a good two minutes before Ryan returned with another resident doctor and a ventilator, "Sir, I'm sorry, you absolutely have to leave now," she told Don, who'd been staring at the scene as it unfolded. Without a word he turned and left, there was something on the man's mind, she didn't know it, but it was guilt.

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"Donny? Is he okay? I heard a commotion?" Alan couldn't help but shoot the questions out before Don even had a chance to answer. His youngest was still in a danger of sorts, and he wanted to know why there had been a unroar.

"He stopped breathing," Don told them softly, a state of dizzying shock settling around him.

"No," Amita pleaded quietly, a tear trailing down her cheek, "no."

"They brought in a ventilator, but I don't know. The burns, they looked really bad," he swallowed the lump in his throat and sat down in the chair beside his father and looked over to his little brother's two friends. Larry had only arrived shortly before, after turning up at Charlie's house and finding out that he was at the hospital. His brother's mentor was staring off into space, he didn't know an astronomical anology for this one.

Amita was slumped in her chair, tears marring her pretty face, half of which was hidden in her hands. They were a sorry bunch, that was for sure.

Don's father wrapped an arm around him and gave his eldest son a comforting hug, the last time the two of them were in a hospital together was when Margaret died, and they didn't want a repeat occasion.

"Mr. Eppes?" Dr. Imhoff exitted Charlie's room and informed them on Charlie conditon, "We've stabilized him on a ventilator, and its working well. We hope that after the fumes leave his system, the lungs will repair themselves, with our help, and we can wean him off of it. As for the burns, there are several first and second degree burns, but more of the latter.  
Unfortunately, there a two third degree burns on his back. I'm going to recommend a skin graft to reduce scarring and help fight against infection, although there are some risks involved. Sometimes the donor skin doesn't take and complications can occur."

Alan took a moment to absorb the information before asking, "What do you suggest?"

"It will be better for him in the long run so undergo with the skin graft. Usually it's nessecsary to get the patients permission, but considering the circumstances, the next of kin will have to make the descision. Truthfully it's up to you and your other son to decide," she explained and gave him a warm smile.

"What kind of complications" Don asked looking up at the doctor.

"If there's any trauma at all after the graft a hematoma may form, and there's also the chance we may not be able to get a matching donor," she told him with a sad smile, "Charlie's blood type is AB negative and thats pretty rare, so we mightn't be able to do the procedure at all. That's why I mentioned it, we searched the registry and there aren't any, we're probably going to have to put him on a waiting list."

Amita visible paled at the revelation, a waiting list, that could take months or years for him to get to the top."Without the graft, the probability of infection is severely increased," she murmured to herself, new tears finding their way down her cheeks.

Dr. Imhoff nodded, "I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news."

Don thought about it for a moment and knew he had a way to finally help his baby brother, "I'm AB negative," he told her, "I'll do it."

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A/N: I'm so sorry that took so long to write, butI had real life to deal with and quite a bit of research had to be done to make the medical stuff more realistic. I know I got Charlie out in the last chapter, but I so had to add more angst to this story. I hope you liked it, i'm not too sure ifI did though, ohwell...I am my own worst critic.PLEASE REVIEW! All flames (I still find that ironic considering the plot of my story) will be disregarded and all praise will be treasured!


	8. Trapped or The Waiting Game

A/N: I find it kinda ironic that I actually wrote this in math class after taking a test. I think I aced it, but everyone keep their fingers crossed just in case. Oh and i must apologize for the wait, but me and my mom have been packing like non stop... you will not believe how much clothes I have! I have to throw some out and donate some too, it's just too much, no wonder I hate doing the laundry, lol. Oh, and I'm excited cuz my birthday is going to be in less than two weeks, I can't wait!

_Chapter Eight: Trapped/ The Waiting Game_

"You must understand that having the same blood type doesn't automatically make you a suitable donor?" Dr. Imhoff asked gently, she didn't want to raise false hopes, but it was a step in the right direction.

"I know, a more specified blood test has to be run...right?" Don sighed quietly, life wasn't going to make this easy for them, that was for sure.

"Yes, we'll do that right away and I'll put the analysis on a rush," she told him and gestured for him to follow her .

Don squeezed his father's shoulder gently before rising to follow the doctor. Just before he reached the turn he turned to Amita and his father calling softly, "Don't worry, I'll make sure Charlie will be fine."

Amita nodded, but neither her nor Alan could help but worry. Anxiety was tearing through each of them, the fear that Charlie wouldn't make it, would leave them forever. Alan was in danger of losing his youngest child, and nothing could stop him from worrying. In his mind there was no worse fate than losing one of his boys.

Only a moment later Don was gone thorugh the door and followed Dr. Imhoff to an examinging room. He sat on the paper covered bed and carefully rolled up his sleeve to the elbow. The doctor dabbed his arm with an alcohol swab and picked up the syringe gently.

He felt a prick in his arm ad watched as his blood quickly filled the syringe. Just as quick, it was over and Dr. Imhoff sent him back to the waiting room, promising he'd be the first to know of the results.

But Don couldn't dare go back and face his father yet, he still felt like all the blame lay on his shoulders. Inside he knew the only fault lay on Stevens, but that didn't chase the guilt away. Instead he headed towards the ICU, there was someone he needed to apologize to.

There lay his little brother, more still than he'd ever seen him before. His dark curls contrasted starkly against his pale face. The most unreal part of the whole scene was the tube snaking its way into Charlie's mouth and down his throat.

The sound of the ventilator was like something out of a horror movie, a rasping noise that never seemed to end. He wanted to focus on something, anything other than the machine breathing for his brother. It wasn't supposed to be this way; Charlie was an energetic, very alive person. He didn't want to believe the young man laying there in that bed was him.

Pulling a chair up beside the bed, he sat down and took his brother's hand, careful not to dislodge the IV of antibiotics in his arm.

"God Charlie," he whispered breathily, "I'm so sorry." He squeezed Charlie's hand lightly and prayed silently he would squeeze back, but he didn't. "C'mon Charlie, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand," but still it lay limply in his own. "I just want you to know... I'm not mad at you Buddy, and I never really was. I was just worried about you. I-I gotta go for a little while okay Charlie? I'll be back I promise." He gave his brother's hand one last squeeze before standing up and walking slowly towards the door.

He paused for a moment and looked at his brother forlornly as the ventilator forced another breath into his lungs. Finally he made his way back to the waiting room.

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Charlie could hear the voices getting closer, and the heat was becoming unbearable and he couldn't see a thing, only the darkness covering him. And there was the feeling of air continually being forced into him by the obstruction in his mouth. What had Steven's done to him now?

Suddenly a cool feeling came over him and he felt another hand in his, squeezing it. Don's voice floated through his brain, ridding all of the voices that were overwhelming him only seconds before.

"C'mon Charlie, if you here me, squeeze my hand," he heard his brother ask him.

He struggled to comply, forcing all of the little energy he had into his hand, willing it to grip his brother's, but it was like he was completely paralyzed. He wanted to scream in panic, flail out anything, but he couldn't move. He was trapped in his own mind, unable to do anything.

_Don! _He tried to yell, but it was only a thought. Slowly he tried to calm himself down. He heard Don tell him he wasn't angry, only worried and Charlie was just glad that Don was here with him. The entrappment inside himself would be too horrible if he wasn't there.

"I-I gotta go for a little while okay Charlie? I'll be back I promise," Don told him and Charlie cried silently to himself.

_  
No, please Don, don't go!_ As Don's hand slowly let go the voices came closer and closer, and the heat was more blazing than ever before.

"It's too late Charlie, you're mine," it was only one voice now, Stevens' voice, and it was so close it echoed all around him.

_Don! Please! Help me! _Again nothing came out and Stevens' voice only came closer.

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"It'll be a while before the test comes back," Don informed them gently as he sat down in the waiting room next to Amita.

Amita nodded and wiped yet another tear from her face. This just couldn't happen. It was like all of them were in a constant state of denial. None of them could belive that it was really Charlie in there, almost as if they expected him to bound through those doors at any second and ask why everyone was so upset.

The doors to the waiting room did open, but it was Larry who entered and he sure wasn't in the mood to go bounding anywhere.

His face was etched with worry as he asked, "How's Charles?"

"Holding on," Don told him quietly and moved into a new chair, leaving a space for Larry to sit next to Amita.

"It's atsronomically inprobable that this-" but Amita cut him off tearfully.

"Not now Larry, anytime but now."

Larry stopped and sat down in the chair don had provided for him. Physics just seemed to be much easier to think about than what had happened to his friend.

The waiting seemed to last forever, like watching paint dry, but the tension and worry in the air was clear. In the end they resorted to reminiscing about their memories with Charlie.

"Dad...remember when Charlie was six and wrote his math all over the walls in permanent marker?" Don asked, giving a small, somewhat forced laugh.

"Your mother never had it in her to punish him, he'd just look at her with his puppydog eyes and she'd forgive him," Alan had to smile at the memory of a small Charlie looking up at his mother teary eyed, "We had to repaint every one of those walls."

"Uh huh and guess who got stuck helping while Charlie was off playing at the park with Mom?" Don mentioned, rolling his eyes slightly.

Amita could just imagine Charlie as that child, his eyes could melt anyone's heart, but apparently that hadn't been good enough to save him from Stevens.

"Agent Eppes?" The doctor interupted their thoughts and they all looked up.

Don stood abruptly, looking at Dr. Imhoff hopefully, "Uh huh?"

"You're a match," were the only three words she told him. He looked to his father with a ture smile on his face, there was hope.

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A/N: Been awhile and you probably hate me by now, but oh well. Lol, I hope to have a new chap up soon. As always flames will be disregarded and praise will be treasured. Constructive critism will be considered seriously. Oh and if you see something that I'm lacking, please don't just tell me what it is, give me some detail so I can actually go back and fix it.

Thanks

Queen of Cliffies


	9. Complications

A/N: I know again it took me too long, but my b-day is soon and I soooooo can't wait! Also I've started working on A Million again, which makes splitting up my time harder. Oh and until Mid-June, my updates will be scattered and not too often, (less computer time and packing) then from Mid-June to Mid-August there will be no updates(I will be computer less). On the bright side of things, I( will be out of the town I hate and while I'm computer less I will write my chapters on paper, so when I get my computer back and I can you a whole bunch of updates! anyways, here's chapter nine.

Chapter Nine: _Complications _

"Alright Agent Eppes, first of all, you need to sign the anesthesia waver for the procedure and Mr. Eppes, you'll have to sign for Charlie," Dr. Imhoff told them briskly, giving each of them an identical form. Don scanned over the form quickly and signed his name not very neatly on the dotted line.

Alan took his time, reading through the paper thoroughly, then signed his name on his own dotted line, "So this is incase one of them has a bad reaction?" He asked quietly.

"It's not very common for that to happen, but the waver is just in case. Neither of your sons has had a problem with that in the past?" She questioned as she took the documents from them and handed them off to the med-student, Ryan.

"Not Charlie," Alan answered and looked to Don, wondering if he'd ever needed it when he was in Alberquerque.

"Me neither," Don replied honestly, he didn't want to admit it to anybody, but he was nervous. There was the fear that this wouldn't help Charlie or if it did it would cost him his life. He'd also heard that recovery from giving skin donations was hell, but he knew it was worth it, no matter what he had to give up.

"Agent Eppes, normally we wouldn't do the procedure right away, but considering the urgency, we want to get you prepped right away. Could you follow me?" She told him seriously and Don nodded, "Call me Don though, okay?

Before he could leave, Alan stood and gave him a giant bear hug, "Take care, m'boy. No matter what happens Donnie, I love you okay?"

"I know Dad, I love you too," Don returned the hug tightly and allowed Larry and Amita to give him hugs as well.

"You're very brave Don," Amita told him, loud enough for Larry and Alan to hear.

"I'm not brave, to tell you the truth, I'm scared shitless, but I have to do it. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't and Charlie didn't make it." Don confessed and turned to follow the doctor, leaving the trio to wait restlessly.

The walk was short, but he ended up passing his brother's room, where Charlie was being prepped. The young mathematician was still very pale and it tore at him to see his little brother in that way, hopefully he was about to do something to help.

He quickly changed into a waiting hospital gown when he got into the room where he was to be prepped. Everything went too fast for him to register the specifics and before he knew it, it was time.

Don lay quietly on the hospital bed as Dr. Imhoff and a couple of her colleagues surrounded him, the procedure was about to begin. There was no denying it, he was nervous, scared and anxious all at the same time, but there was no going back now. He watched as Dr. Imhoff placed the mask over his face, his eyes made out the outline of the tube that would carry the anesthetic, "Ok Don. I want you to slowly count back from ten."

"Ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four..." he never made it any farther. The medication took its effect and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Dr. Imhoff immediately went to work, harvesting layers of skin and hoped that it would be enough to save her patient. This job was just getting to be too much for her, she wanted out, but not before she helped this young man and his family.

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He was back and there was nothing he could do. They'd told him Stevens was dead, but they were wrong. Here he was, back in the chair in his garage, soaked in gasoline. Paul's voice seemed to always get closer, yet never quite reaching him. It was still there taunting him, "Charlie...can you feel the burn? What's wrong, too dumb to get yourself out? Face it Charlie, you're going to die painfully and Donnie's not here to save you!"

"Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" He tried to scream, but whatever Paul had shoved down his throat didn't let the sound come out. A small flame hovered in front of his face and he stiffened in fear, any closer and he'd be burnt to a crisp. He tried to lean away from the flame, but it keep coming closer. The overwhelming terror was too much to deal with, but he no choice. He thought was about to go insane, right then and there, but then the calming feeling came back over him.

A breeze blew out the flame and Don appeared in front of him, "Don? How-how are you here?" He asked incredulously.

"It doesn't matter Charlie," Don told him quietly and began to undo the bindings restraining him and as soon as he had his brother loose, Don engulfed him in a hug, "Are you still scared?"

"No," Charlie whisper-sobbed, for once he felt completely safe, "You're here to protect me, how can I be scared? Earlier, when you were holding my hand, I was finally calm."

"You could feel that? Did you hear me? Why didn't you squeeze back?" The rush of questions burst out of his mouth before he could hold them back. He pulled Charlie away from him for a moment to take a good look at him.

"Yeah, I felt and heard you Don, and I couldn't squeeze back, I'm sorry," Charlie answered him apologetically.

"It's alright Buddy, but promise me you'll get better?" Don gave him another brief hug, knowing it was something he didn't do often enough.

"I'll do my best, but Don. What the hell did Paul shove down my throat," he pointed to his neck and saw Don smile sadly.

"Charlie, the doctor's did that. You stopped breathing," the answer was so soft that Charlie barely heard it. Charlie didn't know how to respond, so he simply asked.

"But how are you here? You're not..." he trailed off, wondering how his big brother got into his dreamworld.

"No, they're doing a procedure on me, that's all Charlie. Don't worry about it and I'll always be around to protect you. Charlie, I'm not just your brother, I'm a part of you," and with that, Don began to fade away slowly and a white light shone in front of him.

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The graft had been completed, but Dr. Imhoff sighed as she realized she had more bad news for the Eppes family. Carefully, she made her way to the waiting room and addressed Alan.

"Mr. Eppes, I'm sorry, but there was some complications with the anesthetic. It's caused your son's liver to malfunction," she informed him softly and saw the same sadness in three different pairs of eyes.

"Will Charlie be okay?" Amita questioned, she just wanted this to be over, for her friend to be okay.

"Charlie's doing better than expected," her statement met confused glances, and she continued, "We think we will be able to wean him off the ventilator tomorrow, or if he wakes up we'll take it out then. One problem that may arise is it will take awhile to find out if the graft takes. It's Don that has the complications."

"Can you fix the malfunction?" Larry asked hopefully, the wonders of modern medicine had proven fruitful in his past.

"We gave him medicine that should counteract the anesthesia's interference," she explained, carefully picking through her words. She didn't want to mislead them, or raise false hopes.

"Should?" the look on Alan's face was heartbreaking. He didn't want to believe this was happening.

"It might not work, and if it doesn't, he won't make it," there was true sorrow in the doctor's voice, she empathized with their situation.

"So Don may have given his life for Charlie's?" Amita spoke up quietly. Don might not have thought he was brave, but she knew he was.

"As I mentioned before, the graft still might not take, although his chances of survival have increased," Dr. Imhoff looked to the ground for a moment as she waited for a reply.

"Do you mean to say, I might lose both of my boys?" Alan asked, his voice was full of despair.

"It's a possibility."

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A/N: Of course I left you there, I am the Queen of Cliffies aren't I? Anyway I'm addicted to reviews and don't you dare make me go through withdrawal or I'll be super cranky. I have ideas for the nest chap so hopefully it'll be up soon.


	10. Open Your Eyes

A/N: I know it took way too long for this chapter...again, but a flame caught my attention and made me feel really sad, then I remembered I'd said I would disregard them, so I did. I know my grammer ain't the best, but I is a Newfounderlander, lol!

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Alan sat at the bed side of his youngest son, who still hadn't waken yet. Charlie's curls were plastered against his forehead with sweat. The mathematician had just been moved to the recovery are in the Burn Unit.

His son's hand lay limpy inside the larger one of his father, who clasped it tightly, praying Charlie would awaken. It had been a relief when Dr. Imhoff had told him they'd successfully weaned him of the ventilator, but as for waking up, that was up to Charlie.

Charlie's head moved a little to the side, immediately catching Alan's attention. He swept the curl's off his son's forehead and whispered, "C'mon Charlie, wake up son."

A soft moan was his answer, Alan reached over quickly and pressed the call button and leaned expectantly over the younger man, "C'mon Charlie." He squeezed his hand and was rewarded with a weak squeeze back.

"Mr. Eppes, is there a problem?" A pretty young nurse asked quietly.

"He's waking up!" Alan announced excitedly as Dr. Imhoff appeared behind the nurse.

"Alice, go get 15mg's of morphine," Dr. Imhoff told the nurse hurriedly and looked over her patient carefully. Morphine would make Charlie disoriented and drowzy, but it was the only pain medicine strong enough that they had on hand for his injuries. There were several indicators he was close to waking up, his eyelashes were fluttering and he kept moaning quietly, "Mr. Eppes, keep talking to him, it may have been helping him. It will give him something to focus on."

Alan nodded and spoke gently to his son, "Charlie, wake up. I need you to open your eyes, okay? Don't give up. Charlie, wake up and no you can't have five more minutes," he hoped the joke would wake Charlie up, and he heard a soft mutter from his son.

"Hurts," he mumbled and a tear squeezed through his tightly closed eye and he clasped his father's hand into a deathgrip. A moment passed and Charlie opened his dark brown eyes, but one seemed to be a bit clouded over from the gasoline damage.

"Where does it hurt Charlie?" Dr. Imhoff asked gently and Charlie's eyes darted to her in a confused expression, "It's okay. I'm your doctor."

"My back," Charlie moaned and his eyelids started to droop as the pain overtook him.

"No, no. Stay awake Charlie," Alan pleaded as Charlie's hand began to slack, "Charlie no!"

Charlie shook his head a little and struggled to stay awake and whispered, "Sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault, just try and stay awake okay?" Alan reassured him softly as Dr. Imhoff checked him over thoroughly. Charlie was laying on his stomach, his face turned to the side. The doctor checked the bandages and it looked like the graft was taking well. Finally she had some good news.

"Well, by the looks of it, the graft is taking. There's still a chance his body could reject it, but it gets lower with time," Dr. Imhoff gave Alan a small grin and the worried father sighed with relief.

"Graft? Dad, what's she talking about? Where's Don, I had a dream and he was talking to me, something about a procedure...Dad?" Charlie's fear filled eyes searched his father's for information and didn't like the sad look he gave him. It was the longest sentence he put together since waking up and it took a lot out of him.

"Charlie... Don donated some skin to you. You needed it so badly and Donnie just wanted to help you. He's in the ICU right now," Alan told him as softly as he could.

Charlie didn't reply for a moment, then whispered to himself, "I'll always be part of you..."

"Son?" Alan questioned, unsure who his son was taking to.

"In my dream..." he took a second to regain his strength, "he told me that." Alan could see tears forming in his son's eyes and found some on his own face.

The nurse Alice came in with the morphine and Dr. Imhoff silently put it into Charlie's IV. She didn't know how to react to what was happening to the two men.

"_Code Blue Room 43 ICU!" _the alarm sounded throughout the hospital and Alan recognized the room number right away.

"Don," Alan whispered.

"No," a similar, but much weaker one came from Charlie. From his father's voice, he gathered what was going on, "just no."

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Fifteen Minutes Later...

"Mr. Eppes?" Dr. Imhoff came into Charlie's room after having rushing out when the code was called.

"Yes?" He asked quickly, his eyes darting to the doctor.

"I'm sorry that you were worried. We were quite full in the ICU today and had Don sharing a room with another patient. Don's fine so far. As for the medication we have him on... it seems to be working. He's awake now and we're taking him back into the Recovery Room," Dr. Imhoff informed him, grinning as she told him the good news.

"Thank goodness," Alan sighed, relieved. Charlie didn't speak, but he had a small smile on his face. During the last fifteen minutes, his father had filled him in on the events he'd missed. He had been just as worried and felt a little bit guilty.

Dr. Imhoff looked at him for a second and knew what his next question would be, "You can see him as soon as he's settled in. In about ten minutes."

Alan smiled and turned to his youngest son, "Charlie...I'm going to get Larry and Amita to keep you company, then see your brother, alright?"

Charlie nodded silently and watched as his father exitted the room, not long later, Amita came into the room...alone, "Where's Larry?"

"He had to leave, I hope you don't mind," she answered him and Charlie heard the emotion she was trying in vain to withold.

"I'm gonna be okay Amita, you don't have to worry anymore," Charlie whispered soflty and saw the shadow of the tears she'd been crying.

"How can you say that, considering your laying there on your stomach, half out of it because of the morphine. Charlie, we almost lost you," she blurted as fresh tears streaked her cheeks.

"I'm still here and... I'm not giving up," he told her gently, taking small breaks every few words.

She sat down by the side his face was directed and took his hand, ignoring the awkward position it warranted to do so, "Charlie, almost losing you, it tore me apart," she sniffled a little before continuing, "I was just so scared."

"I was scared too, Amita. I don't think I can wait anymore, we've been playing this game for far too long," Charlie was beginning to tire himself out with all the talking and fell silent once again.

"I agree, but Charlie, no long conversations until your all better okay?" Amita told him, realizing she shouldn't have stressed him like that since he only woke up a short while ago.

Charlie nodded and was content just holding her hand.

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Alan stood at the edge on Don's bed, his eldest son was laying in a similar position to his youngest. The skin had been harvested off Don's back, so bandages were covering his back as well. Don shifted quietly in the bed and asked, "Dad."

"Yes Donnie, it's Dad. How are you feeling?" He asked and Don gave a small groan.

"Like I just got hit by a truck, and someone dragged a cheese grater over my back," Don deadpanned, he was serious. Whoever said recovery from graft donations was hell, they knew their stuff.

"Donnie, thats not what I wanted to hear," Alan said as he dragged a chair over the side of the bed.

"Sorry, Dad, but it's the truth...how's Charlie?" Don asked, thoughts immediately going to his brother. No matter how much they fought and argued, Don cared more about his brother than any petty fight. If he could go back and redo all of those fights, he'd do it differently. He'd be there for his brother, knowing now that was all Charlie really needed.

"Better, the doctor says the graft is taking and he woke up a little while ago." Alan told his son and saw him wince.

"What day is it?"

"Two days since the procedure first started, there was a complication, but it's okay now," he answered, trying to avoid the topic.

"Oh... but you said Charlie's alright?" Don asked again, giving Alan the third degree.

"He's fine, Don. After you and he have healed up a bit more, they'll let one of you will visit the other," Alan informed him gently.

Don nodded his head slightly and a small smile found its way to his face, thins were going to turn out alright by the sounds of it. He could only hope it continued this way.

"Donnie? Charlie mentioned something... a dream..." Alan trailed off and Don's smile grew a little bit smaller.

"Yeah I know," Don answered and Alan didn't push. Whatever it was, it was between the two of them and he hoped it would only strengthen their bond.

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A/N: Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know a little bit of irony that hit me today, literally. There I was sitting at my coomputer typing a hospital scene (the one with Charlie and Alan) and a short while later I was at the hospital. Yeah my cat flipped for no reason and attacked me. It makes me sad, we may have to put him down and we for sure can't keep him, I'm terrified of him. You have to have been there to see it, he was completely feral. Anyway please review! The last chap/epilogue will be up shortly.

Didn't really like this chapter, but I had to get it out.

Q of C


	11. Overcoming the Fear

A/N: Ok seeing as this story is almost done... I'm not deleting because one person keeps flaming it. I'm not a quitter. And a big thanks to FlufferNutter and Sydx for the words of encouragement.

Well here's the epilogue to a story that was lots of fun to write.

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Two Months Later

Charlie slowly got out of bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. It was just another day in June, although all days seemed the same to him. His mind wandered the the events of April, how fast life had almost been snatched from him. He'd held a strong facade for Amita that day in the hospital, but he was still terrified himself.

He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he winced at the scars from the graft. The doctor's had told him without the graft the scars would have been worse and he loathed to wonder what they might have been like. He also knew without the graft, he probably would have died, but Don had saved his life at the risk of his own. He'd never doubt how much his brother cared again. He knew his brother had indentical scars and that helped ease the self-consciousness he had concerning them.

He also considered himself lucky that he hadn't suffered any long time eye damage. Only blurry vision for several weeks, by now his sight was almost back to normal.

He stripped down and jumped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over his body. He didn't really have anything to do today, school was over and he hadn't consulted since his release from the hospital.

He thought over calling Amita, since the incident, they'd pushed aside waiting, knowing if they waited too long, they'd never get a chance. Though things were still a little bit awkward, but it was mostly his fault. He knew he wasn't like himself and it made their developing relationship suffer.

Getting out of the shower and toweling off, he sighed tiredly. Something just wasn't right, it hadn't been since April.

Later... in the Afternoon

Charlie's chalk clattered away in a spare room, anxiety still overcame him whenever he tried to go into the garage. Even if Don offered to go in with him, everytime he thought about going in there, he pictured Agent Marshall's face as the blood drained from his body and Paul Steven's twisted smile. He couldn't bring himself to go into that garage.

"Hey Buddy," Don's voice echoed from the hallway and Charlie whipped around. Since the incident, he tended to zone out less, Charlie didn't want to have a similar event because he was caught up in his numbers. It seemed that what had happened was constantly running through his mind, and he could tell his work was suffering because of it.

"Don?" He asked, knowing the answer, and Don smiled from where he leant against the doorway.

"Supper's ready," he announced and Charlie followed him downstairs without another word, dropping his chalk where it lay. Charlie's behaviour worried Don, he wasn't himself. It was like he was going through the steps of life, but not really enjoying it.

Lasagna was on the menu but before they sat down to eat, Alan spoke to Charlie, "Can you go get the laundry from the garage Charlie?"

Everyday it was the same, Alan would try to get his son to enter the garage, to fight the fear that was stopping him from going on with his life.

"Dad...can't you?" He asked quietly.

"Charlie, you have to get over it sometime. I'll go with you, don't worry," Don spoke up and slung a comforting arm around his little brother's shoulder.

"Me too," his father volunteered as well. With all the support surrounding him, and the expectant look on his family members' faces, Charlie relented.

"O-okay, I'll go in," he let out a small sigh. He and Don walked toward the door together, with their father trailing behind. With each step, Charlie felt his breath getting caught in his throat. He wanted to do nothing but curl up into a corner and hide from everything, to just pretend it didn't exist.

Don went in first and left the door wide open, to make sure Charlie could see it was perfactly safe. One tentative step at a time, Charlie entered the garage, with his father in step behind him.

"See Charlie, nothing to worry about, it was a one time thing," Don gave him a small smile. It hurt so much to see his brother's fear. If Stevens wasn't dead already, he'd have strangled him with his bare hands.

Charlie grinned back and ran a hand softly over one of his chalkboards and picked up a piece. Carefully he erased a small symbol and wrote another one. Soon his hand was flying over the chalkboard like he did beforeanything had happened.

"Charlie... it's great that your over this, but the lasagna is getting cold," Alan told his son, almost shocked to see his energy return so suddenly. Alan got no answer, things were gettingback to normal.

"Hey..." Amita's voice came from inside the house. Charlie had earlier told her not to bother knocking, she was like part of the family and it wasn't warranted.

"We're in the garage," Don called to her and they heard her clattering footsteps as she rushed in. She stood in the doorway shell shocked. She knew of Charlie's fear and was estatic he'd gotten over it.

"Charlie?" She asked, almost in a whisper.

Charlie heard her and turned immediately, he had recently found out there was something more important than math and it was her, "Amita, hey. You wanna stay for supper?" He asked quickly, he knew his dad had made too much anyway.

"I'd like that," she gave him a warm smile and the three Eppes men headed towards the door where she stood. When Charlie got there she gave him a hug and whispered in his ear, "I'm proud of you Charlie, you beat it."

Charlie smiled broadly and led her towards the dining room. All his healing was nowhere near done, but he was finally heading in the right direction.

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A/N: Hope you liked the ending! PLEASE REVIEW! Flames WILL be disregarded, so don't bother with them.


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